Tony Gonzalez is an NFL icon. A lock for the Hall of Fame when he retires, Gonzalez has the most receiving yards (14,268) and touchdowns (107) for a tight end in NFL history, and the second most receptions (1,242) all-time, trailing only 49ers legend Jerry Rice.

Recently, I spoke with the 17-year veteran about his partnership with Clear Men Scalp Therapy, “Marty Ball” and the evolution of the NFL. You can check out a transcription of the interview below, or just watch the embedded video of our discussion after the break.

Bullz-Eye: So Tony, what’s going on with you and Clear Men Scalp Therapy?

Tony Gonzalez: I teamed up with Clear Men Scalp Therapy because as you strive to be the perfect man, it starts with first impressions. And as a football player wearing a helmet all the time, we deal with flakes. They have flake free, dandruff free shampoo that really doesn’t dry your hair out and I love it. It smells great and I’m glad to be a part of it.

Bull-Eye: Speaking of flakes, how has the integration of social media in today’s world changed the way you interact with fans?

Tony Gonzalez: It’s a game changer; everyone has a voice. Let alone just athletes, anyone “famous” or whatever you want to call, everyone gets to voice their opinion. My 12-year-old son has a Facebook and Instagram and he’s like, ‘Dad why don’t you respond to me so I can get more friends?’ and all this stuff. As the professional athlete, it’s a blessing and a huge tool to reach whatever audience you want to reach. On the flip side of that, it’s a dangerous tool, if it’s used improperly and you see athletes putting stuff out there all the time. Once you push send, it’s on there forever; for the rest of your life and even when you leave the earth, people are still able to check out what you thought about a certain subject and it can be dangerous.”

I knew it was going to be an interesting trip to Los Angeles when I met actor Colin Farrell at LAX baggage claim upon arrival. Minutes later, I bumped my shoulder into Olympic legend Michael Phelps’ tightly toned torso while wildly retrieving my luggage from the baggage carousel.

Here is the actual transcript of our meeting:

“Whoa. Hi Michael, excuse me. That bag kinda got away from me there for a second.”

“No problem, how are you?”

“I am good, nice to see you.”

Turning my attention, and body, towards the exit, I again saw Farrell, this time attempting to lay low in the shadows as people began to recognize him as “that one guy from ‘SWAT.’”

Suddenly, five punky paparazzo exploded off the elevator and surged towards the helpless Farrell, who was now pacing back and forth, alone, waiting for his luggage, while having a conversation on his cell phone that was going nowhere. He was adamant about needing a ride immediately, but his urgency was neither acknowledged nor reciprocated.

A pair of 50-something (but don’t tell them that) Latinas spotted him, exclaiming with glee to everyone within earshot that Farrell was, in fact, “right by them.”

The ladies bum rushed him and made their jerky husband take several pictures while they posed, Farrell maintaining a state of disinterest throughout the experience. 30 people stood around and watched, mouths agape.

Metaphorically, Farrell was naked in front of his high school assembly, with no publicist or agent in sight to deflect or protect, and the verbal potshots began to pile up.